Spring Ballad for the Bunnies
by GarrulousParakeet
Summary: Springtime's come and the bunnies have set up a picnic down in fields past the burrows. Would you like to join them? A short Wildehopps oneshot. Third in a series of holiday centric Zootopia fics.


_Opening Authors Note: Though it's by no means necessary, I'd recommend reading the previous two stories set in this fic's universe. You can find them under Trick or Treat You Right, and Snowy Paws._

…

"L'eau gaiement babille,

Le goujon frétille

Un printemps encore !"

\- _Le Printemps_ , _Théophile Gautier_

...

Her pretty yellow dress – the one with thin spaghetti straps that drape over her shoulders – appeared to radiate a soft, misty light throughout the picnic grounds. Judy Hopps herself, however, did not at all radiate light. Rather, she seemed to collect it. Store it away in herself. It brings about a sort of crystal clarity to her figure, whether she's aware of it or not.

Or, at least those were the thoughts running through Nick Wilde's head as he watched her make her way to the family picnic table, little sisters flanking her on either side as she went to drop off another plate of carrot cookies. The little ones pulled at the flowery hem of her dress, eager to tell her just how pretty they think she is.

Placing the platter of cookies down, Judy caught her fox staring at her, though he didn't see this as any reason to look away. They just continued staring at one another. A cool breeze blew past them, picking any non-pinned picnic blankets up and wisping them a few feet away so that the adults had to go chasing after them.

Judy's eyes absorbed his form. They took in his dark slacks held up by suspenders. They ran lovingly over his white dress shirt and dark black tie.

"You look out of your element, slick," Judy said with a smirk, and she was right. He had promised her he would dress to the nines for the Hopp's family picnic.

And he was positively uncomfortable.

But he wasn't going to let her see that. He forced his ears – which _had_ been lying flat against his head – to stand back up properly, and he mustered his best, most suave smile.

"Well, you-" he started. Judy looked at him with her big doe eyes. "You-"

And still, she watched him expectantly.

But the words caught in his throat. He said the next best thing.

"-look dumb."

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a half smile.

"Well-"

"Do I look like the Easter Bunny?" peeped a voice at their feet. It was Claire, who had stepped so lightly upon the grass that neither Nick nor Judy heard her coming. Nick almost didn't recognize her; because instead of wearing the pink onesie she was known for never taking off, she now wore a vest of many colors and a pretty purple ribbon 'round her right ear.

"Ma says I'm supposed to hide the eggs for our egg hunt later today. I'm supposed to be the Easter Bunny."

Nick, who had no idea what the Easter Bunny was supposed to look like, got down on his knees to touch heads with the girl. Judy, who had more sense about her, had to fight the urge to yell at the Fox to get up before he gets grass stains on his slacks.

"Well, _I'd_ certainly say you do, and a very pretty one at that," and as he said this, he booped her on the nose.

The fox's ears fell flat against his head again, however, as a heavy thudding – as though someone had taken to hammering a stake into the grassy plot, though still recognizable as footsteps – roared on behind him.

"Mr. Nick!"

Charlie came bounding up to the fox and bunnies, nearly knocking Claire over in the charge. He was dressed just as Nick was, though his suspenders looked fit to burst wrapped around his chubby little frame.

"Mr. Nick, you've-" he paused to pant. Wherever he came from, it must have been a long ways away. "You've gotta come. We're playing soccer ball in front of the burrow, and you need to come on my team."

Nick laughed and shook his head. He and Judy exchanged astonished looks.

"Yes, you need to come," said Charlie, grabbing the fox by the wrist before beginning to drag him away.

"Woah, woah! Slow your roll there, bud. We're going to be eating soon."

"Mr. Nick, you know that I have to win-"

"-I know," said Nick. "We can win after we eat, though; can't we?"

Charlie pouted a little but let go of the fox's arm all the same.

"Go get the other kits and-" but the look on Charlie's face told him he had said something very wrong. The kit's nose was scrunched up, and his arms were folded across his chest indignantly.

Nick looked up at Judy, who simply put her paws on her hips and raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Nick, you _know_ I'm not even a kit anymore," Charlie whispered. The words, despite being spoken by a plump little piece of fluff, somehow managed to seethe with a definite fury and hiss in the air. " _You know that."_

"I-" Nick began, unsure of what to say.

"You came to my second-grade graduation. I am in the THIRD-grade now."

Nick, realizing his error, caught himself.

"Right, right. Sorry, bud. Slip of the tongue. Can you tell the little kits in front of the burrow to come in now, then? It's almost time for lunch."

Charlie, who looked to be extremely satisfied now, turned his nose up and walked back home proudly.

…

"Here you go, kiddo."

Nick passed a plated of salad and other assorted goodies down to one of Judy's little sisters.

"Thank you, fox," said the girl.

"Maggie!" Bonnie Hopps shot her daughter a disapproving glare.

"What, Ma?" said Maggie.

"Where are your manners?"

The little kit looked up at Nick again.

"Thank you, Mr. Fox."

"He has a name!" shouted the matriarch, but Maggy had already started away, more interested in her plate of greens than the name of that strange big fox who keeps coming over for the holidays.

"Nick, I'm-"

But Nick didn't let her finish.

"It's fine, Mrs. Hopps," and the laughter in his voice told her he wasn't just being polite.

The familiar pitter-patter of gentle rabbit feet drew close behind him.

"Mr. Nick?"

Nick looked down to see a delicate-looking boy – Joey, who it goes without saying was wearing an outfit entirely similar to the fox's – staring up at him, head tilted so that his unusually long, droopy ears nearly touched the green April grass beneath them. He held an empty plate in his paws.

"-can I have some spinach, please?"

The fox smiled down at the boy and took his plate. "Sure thing, little man."

Nick gingerly placed the spinach on the plate but was sure to make room for another item.

"What else can I get for ya?"

The kit wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.

"Ummm…"

Nick waited patiently.

"Maybe some kale?"

And it was so.

Nick stuck around a little while longer, filling the plates of every hungry little rabbit so as to make sure that no bunny went hungry that noon. After a while, he filled his own plate.

"Nick, save me a seat," called Judy. "I'm going to go help Claire hide the eggs."

The fox simply smiled and gave a thumbs up. He lolloped around the picnic area, taking care to not bump into any wandering bunny kits. He didn't fancy the idea of spilling his food all over the place.

"Nick!"

The fox recognized the sing-songy voice. Three tables down, at a large bench fitted with a sun-kissed yellow cloth, sat Bonnie and Stu Hopps. There were two open seats right across from the older couple. Bonnie waved while Stu wore a tired, but pleasant smile.

Nick sat down, and in doing so, noticed a creature sitting upon Mrs. Hopps lap he hadn't noticed before.

A baby bunny, real young, sat cooing happily on Bonnie's lap, chewing the mother's fingers with its barely peeked teeth while she wiped at its chin.

"This is little Josie," said Bonnie. "She's Dolores'. You've met Dolores, haven't you?"

Nick nodded, though he didn't recognize the name. He'd met so many rabbits that he must have met a Dolores at some point.

"And this is a stwaabewwwy…" Bonnie said in a drawn out, sweet voice. Like baby talk.

Nick looked up, confused as to why she was talking to him like that, and equally confused as to why she was explaining fruit to him. But then he noticed. She wasn't talking to him at all, but instead to the wiggly little kit upon her lap.

"Oh! Would you look at _this?"_ the matriarch half-cried the words, prompting the little bun to laugh hysterically, "It's an avocado!" and she slowly brought the vegetable up to the mouth of the kit, said mouth curled into a tight o.

All this baby talk was liable to make the fox lose his lunch.

But then the kit turned to him. Her eyes were black and beady as pond rocks. There was a ring of sweet red around her muzzle, courtesy of the "Stwaabewwwwy" from before. She watched him watch her, and this was enthralling enough to make him watch her even closer. The way her tiny nose twitched feverishly as she stared at him. The way the tip of her right ear just couldn't stay up for the life of her, drooping over lazily before straightening itself again, only to droop over once more some seconds later.

"Bonnie, Stu!" a voice called from a faraway table, though Nick didn't recognize it and wasn't really paying attention to what it was saying.

"Nick?" said Bonnie, snapping him out of his trance. "Can you hold her? We'll be right back, promise."

Nick didn't say anything but stood up and held his paws out across the table. He sat down as the two Hopps walked away placing Josie on his lap just as he'd seen Bonnie do.

They continued to watch one another.

And then she smiled at him.

Nick looked to his left and then to his right. When he was certain that no prying eyes were on him, he plucked a blueberry from his plate.

"And this is a bwuuuuubewwwwy…."

And she ate it from his paws, giggling like a march hare.

…

It is horribly easy to forget, I think, just how quick a rabbit can run when properly motivated. And little chocolate eggs, hidden throughout the carrot fields, are apparently prime motivators in bunny kit culture. Judy leaned against Nick as they watched the kits ricochet this way and that from each of the egg spots, the bleary spring afternoon consuming them all.

A tiny rabbit, shorter than most of the other kits out that day, walked to their table at a plodding pace.

"Fuch, Judy."

"Edmund?"

The couple turned to find the little rabbit staring up at them, his arms raised above his head. Nick glanced at Judy, who just gave him a shrug and a slight nod. Nick picked Edmund up by his sides and placed the tyke gently upon his lap.

"Why aren't you out looking for eggs?" said Judy, turning again to the wild scene. Joey and Charlie tore through the midst of a hundred other rabbits, all clamoring for another egg.

Edmund looked to his left then right, and, as he was sitting on Nick's lap, peered over the fox's shoulder. He beckoned his sister forward as if his next few words were for their ears only. She leaned in, a little huddle forming between the three.

" _Am'nt ete chocate_ ," he whispered.

That is, he can't eat chocolate.

"Oh?" said Judy, to which Edmund nodded resolutely.

"Dun wan man stomach…." He breathed in, searching the air around them for the next word he meant to use, "' _urt_."

In other words, he doesn't want his tummy to ache. Or stomach to hurt. He was above using phrases like "tummy ache."

This, suffice to say, drew a chuckle from Nick. Edmund punched him in the nose.

"Dun laff, fuch!"

I'd wager this doesn't require translation.

…

In the sweet spring evening, all the little rabbits were plum tuckered out. Nick helped carry kits off to bed, and when he went outside to get the last of them, Judy was there on the front porch, watching the sunset.

"Dad says he's got the rest."

"Oh?" said the fox, and his face felt warm. He wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on hers.

The sun seemed to drift under the horizon a tad bit slower than before.

"Thanks for this, Slick."

"No problem, carrots," and as he said this, he tickled her sides. "You can make it up to me later."

He felt Judy's chuckle in his own throat.

"Make it up to you?"

Nick snorted. "Spending time with your wonderfully polite family is horribly taxing. I refuse to continue without compensation.

"'Wonderfully polite?' Are you buttering me up, Mr.?"

She felt his smile grow against the back of her head as he kissed it. She turned around, kissing him again, this time on the muzzle.

" _I'll make it up to you then."_

For now, though, they'd remain here, mollified by the springtime sunset.

 _…_

 _End Author's note: A simple gift from me to you. I know, this doesn't exactly constitute a ballad, but what kind of fanfic author writes poetry?_

 _This was originally just a scribble in my notebook, something to practice on, but I thought I'd post it here. Might be bare-bones, but that was sort of the point. I was going for a minimalistic style because I have a bad habit of writing 10k word chapters and it makes me want to cry._

 _Tell me what you thought about it. It's good to get feedback, I think._


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